Sludgebath
by madwriter223
Summary: There was nothing better than a sludgebath in the middle of summer." Pre Nathan/Charles, with the addition of other pairings to spot them one has to try, though. Humor and Fluff, written for Summer is Brutal theme on Brutal Bussiness, LJ.


**Sludgebath**

Summer once again arrived in Mordland, and with it the horrific realisation that black clothing was not proper for the weather at hand. Several hundred Klokateers have already been hospitalised due to heat stroke, the Dethvehicles were locked safely in their garages, and the dark outside walls of Mordhaus dared anyone to touch their smoldering surfaces.

As every summer, the hot tub was the place where the band gathered most often – once several kilos of ice-cubes were thrown into the water and left to mix with the scalding liquid till it turned into a pleasant cool sludge, of course.

"Is nice." Skwisgaar muttered, sinking lower into the tub.

"Yeah, best place to be." Pickles agreed, busily munching on a popsicle.

"Firsts!!" Toki cried, brandishing his popsicle-stick, devoid of the treat. He threw it onto the stick-pile near the tub. He'd make a castle out of those later, when it was safe to come out of the tub.

Murderface didn't comment, instead burrowing further into the sludge, so that only the top of his head was visible.

"You knows yous gonna be drowns like that, ja?" Skwisgaar asked, eying the bassist.

"No sweat, I got it covered." Pickles stuffed the treat into his mouth, then reached into the bag of necessities the Klokateers had provided, fishing out a single wide straw. He tapped the bassist's head once, and a hand broke the surface of the semi-liquid. It grabbed blindly at the straw, and once it had it in a secure grip, disappeared once again.

After a moment, the tip of the straw reappeared, a puff of air forcing the sludge inside to spray in all sides.

"See? Now he can breath."

"Dat neats trick. Do again!" Toki grinned, clapping his hands.

Skwisgaar, who got hit on the face during the spray, frowned at the straw. "Permits me to disagree."

"Aww. Yous no fun, Skwisgaar."

In response, the blond placed his hand on the top of the other guitarist's head, and pushed his under.

"I ain't got any more straws, dood."

"Nos matter. He fines."

"Uh-huh." The redhead watched the flailing arms for a moment. "Yah can let him go now, I think."

"You thinking so?"

"Yup."

Toki spluttered as he broke the surface. "Wowie." A pause. "I sees why Moidehface likes dat."

The other two shared looks. "Have another popsicle."

"Okies."

*~*five minutes later*~*

The three looked towards the doorway when they heard an odd combination of heavy footsteps, and death threats.

"Looking like Nat'ans found the Lawyers-man." Skwisgaar muttered, absently wiping a trace of melted popsicle from the corner of the Norwegian's mouth, which he then promptly put into his mouth.

Since that fateful day when nearly all of Mordhaus had been leveled, and the manager almost killed, the band members took it as their duty to make sure Charles didn't try dying on them again. This included various schemes to drag the man away from work (all of which unfortunately produced mountains of paperwork), trying to help him in his daily duties (which produced a new level of migraines), and insisting on his taking breaks to rest, the wounds on his body still not having healed yet (which resulted in them receiving death-glares that were usually directed at their enemies).

None of them wanted to chance another fright like that night had been for them. As stupid of the world thought them all to be, they realised that it was mostly due to Charles' constant nagging and doing things behind their backs that he thought they didn't know about that kept them alive and healthy this long.

Hell, without the man, they'd be either dead or broke in a manner of days. At best. So they tried.

The creator, instigator and leader of the 'make sure Charles is okay' movement was, indisputably, one Nathan Explosion.

The same Nathan that was now returning from his obviously successful hunt for the wayward CFO.

As they watched, the front man marched into the room, clad only in his boxers, a sunburn and a suit-wearing, wildly struggling manager slung over his shoulder.

"Nathan, I swear to everything you consider 'metal', if you don't put me down this instance-"

The front man ignored the smaller man. As he neared the sludgebath, he hoisted the other so that he was pressed face-forward to his chest, then promptly got into the tub and sat down. He relaxed into the cool goo, the still-fully dressed man seated comfortably (and by force only) on his lap.

"Don't get his face wet, dood." Their doctor had specifically told them that getting the bandages wet was a bad idea.

Nathan grunted in response.

"Hello, Charlies." Toki grinned at the man, waving madly.

Charles glowered at them all.

"Aw, don'ts is being like dat." Skwisgaar grinned cheekily. "Is too hots out for yous."

"Yes, I am well aware of the temperature, however I have a rather large number of issues that need to be addressed by me today." He shifted, testing the grip on him, then sighed as he resigned himself to his fate. "And the number is growing larger the longer I am forced to sit here."

"Is times for your break anyways." Toki muttered, patting the manager on the head as if he was a puppy. "We just cares about yous."

The by now familiar warmth of affection swelled in the smaller man's chest, and his face lost the glare.

"Fine, a five-minute break won't kill me. However, it would be nice if someone had given me a chance to undress before stuffing me into your pile of... what is this, anyway?"

"Is sludge."

"Yeah, dood. We turn the hot tub as hot as it'll go, then throw ice in it. And we got sludge."

"You know you could just turn the hot tub onto the cold settings, right?"

A long pause as the boys contemplated that.

"That make sense." Skwisgaar muttered.

"Yeah. Why didn't we think of that before?"

"Cause da sludge is nicers?"

"Ja, dat good reasons too."

The CFO rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But nonetheless, my suit is getting ruined."

"Oh, we helps with that." Toki grinned, and the four bandmembers descended on their helpless manager.

After a few moments of struggling and pulling, the soaked suit was laying in a heap on the floor.

"Dere. All betters."

The glower was back full force. "You are aware I hate all of you at the moment."

"Totallies."

"Alright then." Well, at least they left his boxers on.

"Aw, it ain't that bad, dood." Pickles grinned, and reached into the cooler. "Here, have a popsicle."

"No, thank you, I'm cold enough." His hand, however, rose from the water and reached for the treat. This was caused mostly (or fully) by a much larger one wrapped around his wrist, forcing the movement. "Nathan, let go."

"No."

"I don't want a popsicle."

"Don't care, you're on break." To emphasise this, Pickles unwrapped the treat, and forced it into the CFO's hand.

"...Fine." Charles crossed his arms, huffing in annoyance, popsicle now safely melting in his hand.

He cocked his head to the side when he noticed a top of a brown head of hair and a straw. "Hello, William."

A puff of air erupted from the straw.

"You're really enjoying that, aren't you?"

The tip bobbed to and fro as if in a nod.

"Alright then."

*~*fifteen minutes later*~*

Pickles knocked his knuckles over the mop of brown hair. "Dood, enough already. I'll end up having to CPR your ugly ass."

"I t'oughts you does dat on mouth." Toki frowned, cocking his head to the side.

"Pickle is needing to be diffsrents."

"Oh, ha ha."

Murderface emerged, rubbing the sludge out of his eyes, spitting the straw out of his mouth, and sighing. "That wash nishe."

"Dood, you're kinda blue on the face."

Indeed he was, the straw proving itself to be insufficient in gathering oxygen, especially when combined with the temperature of the sludge.

"I'm fine." Murderface nonetheless assured them, right before he tipped sideways, and loosing consciousness with his head on Pickles' shoulder.

"Great. Who wants to help me haul his ass to the hospital wing?"

"Is too hots for dat."

"Ja, we dos that laters."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." The drummer nodded. "I mean, he's breathing. That's a good sign, right?"

"Oh ja."  
"Totallies."

The redhead contemplated his bandmate for a few moments, then shook off his worry, taking a swing of beer. Well, he wasn't getting any bluer, and it was indeed too hot to be dragging the bassist's dead weight halfway through Mordhaus.

They really needed to move the hospital wing closer to their quarters.

"How's you doings, Nat'ans?" Toki asked, turning to the front man.

Said singer was currently leaning back, keeping a firm hold on their manager, currently dozing on his lap. "Fine."

"Charlies okies?"

"Yeah." Charles mumbled something sleepily, snuggling further into the taller man's shoulder. It appeared that the absence of smoldering heat and stuffling suits, in addition to having too little rest at night had forced the manager's tense frame to relax, the result of which was him drifting off nearly starkers in a tub full of sludge and musicians. "He's good."

"He cutes when not glarings ats us."

Nathan grunted in agreement, focusing on rubbing some of the sludge onto the other's chest. "I've been, uh, thinking."

"Ja?"

"Maybe it'd be good if we, umm... stole all his suits?"

"Huh?"

"You know... for the summer? Till it gets, uh, cooler."

"Dat good ideas."

"Waits. We be having nekkid Charlies den?"

"...good song title." Nathan muttered.

"Dood, seriously?"

"Yeah. Umm... but it'll be a private song."

"Yous gonna seresnedes dats to Lawyers-man?"

"Think he'll like it?"

"Totally, yeah."

"I will then."

"Cool."

"Where we hides da suits?" Skwisgaar muttered, still on the previous topic.

"Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmm... the secret vault?"

"Good idea, dood." Pickles glanced at the bassist. "I'll help after I get him to the doctor."

"Oh, yeah, right." Nathan nodded, then gathered the other into his arms and stood up, getting out of the tub. He shifted his grip, making sure the CFO's face was still relaxed in sleep, and walked towards the door.

"Hey, dood, where yah going?"

"Need to, umm... change the bandages."

"Oh ja, is dat times."

"Need helps?"

"No."

"Well, great, cause I need some. Help me get Murderface out of the tub."

"Nat'ans, be sures to start on dose suits, ja?"

A grunt, and receding steps.


End file.
